


Soulmate Shorts

by xAglow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Funny, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xAglow/pseuds/xAglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have been reading soulmate-identifying marks and was 100% inspired! <3 This is just my go at a really fun trope! More tags will be added as the stories come.</p><p>If you have a request leave it in the comments or ask me on Tumblr - <a href="http://xaglow.tumblr.com/ask">xaglow</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nick Fury/Darcy Lewis - Political Correctness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [write love on my skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835587) by [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview). 
  * Inspired by [Music For The Soul(mate)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132889) by [MsDamia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsDamia/pseuds/MsDamia), [tiziano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiziano/pseuds/tiziano). 
  * Inspired by [Soulmate Shorts AKA The Crackship Armada](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407) by [ozhawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came to me after having to write a paper on political correctness and censorship. I'm sure Darcy would have taken some Rhetoric classes to bolster her Poli-Sci Degree and she'd have had to write something similar. Following this line of thinking I could see her being a smart ass about it and lipping off to Fury with out regard so social practices. :P
> 
> Also! Everyone should go read [Nick Has A Heart And Nobody Knows How To Process This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2509871) by [TheJoysOfAMultishipper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemah/pseuds/TheJoysOfAMultishipper)! This is a really awesome Farcy story!

When Fury lost his eye he was not surprised. Well… that is, at the time it sure as hell had hurt and that pain, as intense at it was had been surprising, sure. Waking in medical after and being told his eye was too mangled to ever see out of again had not been surprising, however. 

At the age of 19 Fury had gotten the first and only words to mar his skin. He’d thought he was one of those luck bastards that were blank and didn’t have to worry about such crap, but he’d been branded by some brat somewhere out there in the world… and then he’d gotten a good look at the damn thing and gotten rip-roaring drunk. 

Not only would the little shit be half his age by the time they could be even remotely interesting, but from their first words they were going to be presumptuous assholes, that thought they were above propriety. At the time Fury had been around enough vets during his short tenure in the army to know no one talked about lost limbs or whatever else the world had taken during service. It was just a goddamn politeness not to shove it in their face!

It was for this lovely human being Fury had to look forward to and the fact that his fucking eye would be taken that he got damn well good and drunk that day. 

 

Many years in the future…

Darcy had no idea what she was doing in the AVENGERS-FUCKING-TOWER. She understood that she’d been there to witness the whole Thor thing out in New Mexico. She understood that since then she turned herself into Jane’s glorified Life Coach/Nanny in London and had happened to kinda help save the world, but seriously? Seriously?! What were the people in charge thinking giving he unrestricted access to the superhero base (and she’d checked! There hadn’t yet been a damn door her little pass didn’t open!)?

Lightly tapping her SI badge on her thigh to the beat of Cosmic Love, Darcy walked down a long hallway from the elevator that had dropped her on a floor she’d yet to explore. Technically speaking Darcy was supposed to be collating things in Jane’s new fancy lab. Darcy had been there, that was until she’d had that extra cup of coffee and her leg muscles had started twitching for the inactivity. 

This level was the first to differ in floor plan from the last 3 or 4 she’d been wandering through the last week whenever she’d gotten fidgety. The entire floor seemed to be divided into 2 labs. It was about half way down the long corridor that Darcy noticed a commotion. Unplugging her ear buds, Darcy turned her music off and put on a face of confidence ready for whoever was down there. 

People were less likely to question you if you looked like you were supposed to be there. It was all in the confidence. If worse came to worse, she could just say she was lost or that she’d been sent by Jane to find someone to make God proof condoms. Darcy laughed to herself and thought about that getting back to Jane and how red her boss would go. Darcy had no sympathy. Not only was the woman getting regular sex, but Jane and Thor were fucking loud when they sexed in the apartment they shared with Darcy. 

Darcy started when, at the end of the hall, the large metal doors to the right slammed open. A tall, black man had been the one to burst out of them rather dramatically. His leather trench coat even billowed a little. Aside from the great cut of his figure in the thing, Darcy thought it was a little funny that someone would actually wear something like it here. 

“Barton! Romanov!” He barked over his shoulder and this drew Darcy’s attention to the man’s profile. 

She was treated to his full face as he turned towards her to walk for the elevator, but she couldn’t get past the image of his profile to take in the rest of his thunderous express. He had a fucking eye patch! Leather trench coat + eye patch and all Darcy could think about were pirate jokes. Darcy couldn’t help herself… It just begged being said… all the jokes, puns, and innuendoes clogged her brain until what came out was…

“Since you look like such a bad ass, can I make a Pirate joke? I mean, political correctness can maybe be excused for a time and allow a ‘yar matey’ or two since you have that look of, ‘I eat babies for breakfast,’ right? It’s just, you’re not gonna suddenly be less of an ass kicker cause I point out the probable missing eye. And I’m about 60% sure it’s a missing eye cause I can’t see you wearing that eye patch just cause you’re rocking a case of pink eye, Buccaneer.”

It was here, having alleviated some of the pressure to scream ‘moley, moley, moley,’ that Darcy actually took in the man’s expression. He’d gone ashen at her words, but there was a brewing storm in his eyes – um… eye – that promised retribution.

“Jesus fucking Christ, kid.” A blond man said as he walked up just behind tall, dark and Cyclops-y.

“I guess it could be a John Ford thing?” Darcy dug that grave a little deeper. 

A woman had walked up on the other side of the blond and snorted a laugh. This drew the attention of both the Pirate and the blond. 

“What? It is a funny reference. Ford was an eccentric director from the –” She started, but Patches seemed to have communicated something by look alone that stopped her from going further. 

He turned back to Darcy.

“Where you raised without manners,” he started in a tight, clipped voice, “or were you so obstinate that your parents gave you up as a lost cause?” The tone and his murderous air weren’t what made Darcy’s run hot and cold and have her face pale. 

Those. Were. Her. Fucking. Words!

“Those are my words!” She blurted. 

Both the man and woman behind her soulmate stood stock still at the pronouncement. 

“Director?” The blond hazarded. 

“Not a word, Barton.” Cyclopes said, waving his hand out in a cutting motion. “Agent’s you are excused. I will meet you back at the Helicarrier. I don’t have to say that you keep you’re mouths shut regarding this?”

“Sir, no, sir.” Barton (presumable) said, smirking. 

“Wait. Director? Agents? Helicarrier? Holy shit, are you my very own Sky Captain, Franky?” Darcy said with a laugh. 

“More like Colonel Radl.” Tony Fucking Stark says walking up to their little group in the hallway. He must have come from the room Franky and his Agents had just left as Darcy caught the movement of the doors swinging behind him. 

“Stark,” Franky said in a tone of warning.

“Did I hear you call Fury here your soulmate, miss?” Stark asked to Darcy directly, ignoring everyone, but her. 

“Yeah,” Darcy starts,. a little star struck. “See?” she says and lifts her shirt and pulls a little at jeans to show the words written low on her right hip. 

Franky – or was it Fury? – was at her side in a single stride, pulling her shirt down. 

“No propriety,” he seemed to mutters under his breath. 

“Um, hi.” Darcy said a little breathlessly. His left hand held her right, covering it and seeming to hold it in place from moving to reveal her mark again. The right was firm on her left arm, pulling it away from her right hip where she’d been pulling at her jeans. He wasn’t letting go, and what Darcy thought had started as caution on his part to stop her from revealing the mark again had turned hot. The two of them close in each other’s spaces. 

Eye contact between them was somehow more intense for Darcy. She had only one eye to stare into, rather than a shifting focus between two and the singular focus had her enraptured. Fury – Patches, Ford, Franky, her soulmate, whatever she called him – was no less affected for his seeming control. The grip he held her in spoke of a well-disciplined and self-contained man, but the intensity in which he inspected her with, his sallow breathing… he was just as hooked by this soulmate business as her. 

A throat cleared behind them. They startled apart. 

“This way.” Fury said to Darcy after glaring behind him at Stark. He took her left arm and spun her around as he walked to the elevator. “Agents!” He barked once more over his shoulder. 

Once in the elevator, doors closing on Starks smirking face, Darcy dared to speak again, “Where we going, Rochefort?”

“To the S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ,” he replied with a put upon sigh. 

Darcy turned to look at the 2 ‘Agents’ that were with them. They seemed to be trying valiantly to hold their mirth in, but failing miserably. 

“Those two,” her soulmate said, “are going to the Helicarrier and are going to sit with the new recruits for the next week babysitting.” 

The blond, Barton, squawked in protest and the woman wore an express of such distaste that Darcy laughed a little. 

“I should really get back to the base and Steve. I need to help get Wanda and Vision up to speed –” The woman tried, but once again a single look from her soulmate had her shutting up. 

“Oh, you’re gonna be fun.” Darcy said to her soulmate, mentally acknowledging that her parents were right and she didn’t have a brain to mouth filter. 

“That’s what I thought of you when I imagined you being old enough to… be interesting,” He said the last with a heavy inflection that left Darcy no doubt of what he thought she’d be interesting for. 

She laughed the rest of the way down the elevator to the pained noises Barton was making behind her.


	2. Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis - Responsible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to [Lavanyalabelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavanyalabelle/pseuds/Lavanyalabelle) for going over this chapter and pointing out my mistakes! Thank you, you perfect little peach! <3

I’m not sure what can be said about me that hasn’t already been said by the papers, the media or the comments section of Facebook. But I guess my side of things should be taken down for record. So let it stand here and now. More important than the story simple being told here, let it be marked as the telling in my own words. Me, Darcy Anne Lewis. 

 

I have always been responsible. I remember this about myself from when I was a child. At 26 years old this had not changed about me. I’d party like the best of them in high school and college, but a good work ethic and loyalty were values my family impressed upon me. That had seemed to stick better than the algebra had, at least. For this, I would always have a job as a shop assistant at the Old Navy near campus. 

The manager always kept an eye out for my resume and since my job with Jane was in this odd limbo since she moved to Stark Tower, I went back to the tired and true. I didn’t mind her not being able to hire me or let me live with her in the hero’s tower. But…. mama’s gotta sleep, gotta eat, so I found myself back at an occupation I’d had for a long time (on and off). It was here that my expertise lent itself to spotting shoplifters at 100 paces. I imagined myself as Hawkeye (Hawtguy), spotting them from my perch. 

That particular day was no different from any other. The boy that came in, shifty as all get out, looked like he was just gonna stuff a few extra shirts under his hoodie and bail. My plan of attack was simple; I’d head him off at the changing rooms and ask to see how many items he was taking in and count how many came out. Most of the time, asking to see how many went in was enough to have them leaving the change room with the same number. 

It was always a little nerve wracking when they came out, not expecting me to have been waiting (like I’d said I would, ya silly-billy’s), and only have half or less of what they went in with to hand me. There would always be this awkward little skit the two of us would have to put on.

First, I’d never ask if they were done. I had, in the beginning, and it made their eventual backtracking all the more uncomfortable. Still, I’d usually start direct.

“Oh,” I’d say, all innocence and smiles, “did you leave the rest in the change room?” 

The key was keeping as much suspicion out of my voice. No judgment. Some times these kids NEEDED the clothing, other times they didn’t. I’d give them all the benefit of the doubt, as much as I could. 

Their lines were short, simple. They’d usually stumble out a few “Um…” before I give them an out.

“Or were you wanting a larger size in something?” 

Most took the reason to go back into the change room so they could unhide their hoard to then hand back to me upon their exit. As I said, no judgment for what life puts on people. However, for those few that try to bluff it off I judged, and judged hard. They turned a slightly unpleasant conversation into something far more awkward, drawn out and embarrassing when I eventually get the cloths from them. And believe me. I always get the cloths back.

Oh, and Thor help them if they had on 200$ shoes, designer shirts with artfully distressed jeans and still tried that bull honky on me! I’d have to say, those were the ones that tried to bluff it the most. Suburban, white boys that wanted to be ‘gangsta.’ I, Darcy Lewis, have no patience for that nonsense on the best of days, let alone while I’m working and have been standing all day.

It was these times that I missed most working for Jane. She had chairs, and free coffee in her lab. 

I followed the kid with me eyes, watched him take a few tanks and some Avengers T-shirts and walk his way into the change rooms. I cut him off there, asking, “How many?” with a bright smile.

This close, I saw the state of his shoes and hoodie. Holes dotted them both. I cringed internally. I hated it when they were like this, so obviously in need of the new clothing. The kid had good taste too. The Avenger T he’d picked up had Hawkeye on it. I had already purchased two of them for myself. 

“4,” he said tersely and I knew he knew that I knew. 

Seasoned pros, the both of us. Me at stopping the theft, him at thieving. His was very obviously a life like Aladdin’s. Stealing to survive was just a reality for him. And perhaps it wasn’t the same traditional sense of surviving, an Avengers T vs food, but kids like him had to survive high school somehow. I remembered my school days and how cruel the kids could be to anyone that couldn’t afford 3 square meals, let alone the latest trendy clothing. 

He wasn’t very long in there, the pretence for going in was up. He came out and dropped the tanks on the folding table and then put the Avengers T's on the hanger. I was so focused on him that I didn’t notice much else around me. Perhaps that’s how he got so close without me noticing. I would have continued not noticing him if he hadn’t pulled up the Avenger shirt the kid had racked.

“You don’t like him?” A blond with very lick-able arms said from beside me. He was clearly addressing the kid.

“He’s the best of them…” The kid started, stopping when he too got a look at the older man. “You’re… You’re -” 

“Haha, yeah,” They guy said. He looked honestly embarrassed, little spots of red high on his cheeks. “But shhhhh, okay?” the dork even put his finger to his lips.

The kid was nodding his head, beaming at the guy. And it suddenly clicked in my brain. Great arms, blond hair, hero worshiped by an Avengers fan, by a Hawkeye fan… This was Clint-Fucking-Barton, Hawkeye of the Avengers!

“Jesus, you’re Clint-Fucking-Barton! You’re Hawtguy - FUCK, I mean Hawkeye!” I was mortified to have called him Hawtguy. My brain to mouth filter was failing me at the worst possible moment. “Sorry.” I mumbled, holding a blouse I’d been folding closer to my chest. 

He laughed uproariously at me. I went red in embarrassment. 

“Those are my, um,” He stammered out giving me his hand to shack, grinning like a loon, “Hi! I’m, well… you know who I am, so I guess we know each other’s names…” he winced at the end.

“She’s your soulmate?” The kid was smiling almost as wide as if one of us had said HIS words. 

And yeah, the words Hawtguy Hawkeye had said were the words written on my lower stomach. 

“You know my name?” I’m fairly sure I didn’t squeak my reply, but from all other accounts I did.

“Yeah, Thor talks about you some and I was also there when he landed.” He looked at me like I was the rarest flower in the world. And I’m not one to wax poetic or anything, but damn did he ever have a fire in his eyes. 

“You know Thor?” The kid asked me, like I was somehow worth the same level of worship as heroes.

“Classified,” was all I was able to manage. 

Clint laughed. 

I’m not sure how it happened, being as responsible as I am, but I suddenly found myself in the mall food court. Clint had purchased the T-shirt for kid and signed it with a, ‘thanks for helping me find my soulmate.’ Now here I was, not entirely sure I’d told my supervisor that I’d left.

That’s how I found my soulmate, had our first date in a mall food court, lost my Job and become famous. Not very responsible of me, but damn, them arms!


	3. Darcy Lewis/John Watson - You Can Say It, "Aliens."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Yasmania](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yasmania/pseuds/Yasmania) said Darcy/Sherlock and suddenly it became this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is before “The Reichenbach Fall” and about a week after the end of Thor: The Dark World

John shifted some loose rubble by his feet and looked up at 221B Baker St. It had faired remarkable well considering the events of last week. As much as Sherlock had put his head in the preverbal sand about the Alien attack in America (“It was for movie or a shopping sale, John.” “No, Sherlock, they were real Aliens!”), this attack couldn’t be avoided. Mostly because of Mycroft’s near constant texting (to both Sherlock _and_ John), and the general havoc all the destruction had caused.

“Stop it.”

“What?” 

Sherlock made an exasperated noise, “Stop. Thinking. About. Them. It’s distracting.”

“Sherlock –”

“No, John. You were thinking about… about… Them! And it’s distracting me from –”

“They’re called Aliens, Sherlock.” John said, enjoying Sherlock’s visible wince at the use of the word. “And what is there that I’m distracting you from, hum? There are no clients since most everyone is reconverting from an Alien attack.”

Sherlock said stiltedly, “Just stop it!” while cutting his hands out in a negative gesture.

There was silence on the street as they both stood looking at the face of their home. John and Sherlock had lived there together since discovering they were Soulmate’s so it was nice to see it wasn’t turned to complete rubble like some places in London. 

Sherlock hates the term Soulmate, and since neither of them is romantically inclined towards the other John agrees not to say it in Sherlock’s hearing (unless he wants to rile Sherlock up for fun). That’s not to say they aren’t close. John would give his life for Sherlock and, on good days when John’s self-esteem isn’t in the shitter, he likes to thing Sherlock would do the same. 

Sherlock broke the stillness of the street a moment later. John looked over to him as the man made an aborted attempted at speaking. John watched as Sherlock’s face contorted around a word he couldn’t get past his lips. 

“A-” He started again, “Ali”

John was very nearly tempted to blurt the word that had so chocked his generally well-spoken friend, but held his tongue instead. Maybe if Sherlock was made to say the word, he’d get his head out of his – 

“Are you having a fit?” A feminine voice said from behind them, startling a very undignified yelp from Sherlock. 

Turning around, John noticed the girl was rather beautiful, if obviously American (going by her accent). She looked genuinely concerned, as did a giant blond man standing beside her. The guy was built like an American Footballer. He was tall and wide in the shoulders. Maybe he was a body builder?

“I am most certainly not having a… a ‘fit,’ as you say.” Sherlock said succinctly. 

There was a small gasp from a tiny, brown haired woman John hadn’t even noticed, her slight mass hidden behind that of the giant blond guy. 

“Darcy,” the tiny woman said, “Aren’t those…”

“Those are my words,” Darcy (presumably) said in reply. 

She looked shocked, eyes wide and staring at Sherlock. Wait… Words? As in… John turned his head towards Sherlock and near gave himself whiplash doing it so fast. His friend was looking curiously at the girl in front of him. He was looking as if she were something interesting, something to dissect. Fuck…

“Now Sherlock, be nice –” John tried… he really did.

“Of all the people in the universe,” Sherlock started and John closed his. “one of _my_ soulmate is an American chit who’s barely out of her teens?” John didn’t need to have his eyes open to see the way Sherlock’s chin would be jutted out, nose in the air. His tone spoke volumes.

“You have found your bonded, Lady Darcy?” The big guy practically bombed in a voice so loud, but that was also oddly accented. He was very obviously oblivious to the tension because he sounded happy for his friend.

“Some sorority mother or some such nonsense, I’m sure? Taking care of the jocks of you university?” Sherlock scoffed gesturing at the big guy in a sweeping motion. 

John winced at the dismissive tone. He’d known that Sherlock was not happy to have words. They’d talked about it and Sherlock had made it very clear that a soulmate, romantic ones, were not in the cards, they just would not fit, and could not be allowed. As if Sherlock had control of such things. Well… maybe he could if he pissed off this Darcy girl enough. Looking at Darcy’s face, John saw that Sherlock was close enough to have achieved that goal, intended or not.

“Excuse you?” the tiny woman tried to start, but Sherlock cut her off.

“No, this cannot be aloud. I am a genius,” John groaned. “A genius, John.” He said toward John, “And one of the highest caliber, I do not –”

“Oh fuck you.” The girl, Darcy, began. “I don’t care if you’re a genius or Mary-Bloody-Poppins,” She said this last bit in an imitation of a British accent. “I’m in London, find my soulmate, and he’s not Hugh Laurie? Fuck this and fuck you.”

The large blond man stepped up now, and John felt that for sure his friend was going to get his light’s punched out by this American meat head. Well, that’s what he thought until the kicked puppy expression of the guy made it clear this lug didn’t have much in the way of a violent spirit.

“This is a time for celebration, friend!” the guy tried to cajole. “Lady Darcy is a fine shield sister of mine, a great ally to Asgard, and a valiant savour of this world!”

“Asgard?” John chocked out.

The tiny brown haired woman looked pleased that John had caught the reference. And there was a wicked gleam in Darcy’s eyes.

“This is Prince Thor of Asgard. Wielder of Mew-Mew, the best hammer Rona never sold. He is an Avenger of Midgard and general bad-ass with lightning.” Darcy said to both of them with far too much glee. 

Sherlock closed his eyes as if pained. Well that’s one way to make him face the whole Aliens are real thing… Wait, what did she say?

“Those are my words!” John blurted indelicately. Darcy blinked at him a few times prompting him to continue, “I promise I’m nothing like him,” He said and pointed to Sherlock.

“She smiled and held out her hand to him. “Darcy Lewis.”

“John Watson.” He replied, silently counting the many years he was alive before she was even born. He felt dirty.

Not to be ignored for too long (a traight he was going to have to warn this poor third of theirs about) Sherlock cleared his throat. He looked at Darcy again, reassessing her with the new data he’d been given.

“Not sorority mother than, but personal assistant,” Sherlock said with less aggression than before, but with no less tact. “Assistant to that one, yes?” he said, pointing rudely to the small brown haired woman. 

“I’m Jane’s girl-Friday, yeah.”

“The side kick, then. Like John here.” It wasn’t a question and the tone and way he said John’s name couldn’t be construed any other way that badly.

“Hey!” Both John and Darcy said at the same time. They turned to each other and laughed.

“It’s going to be so nice having someone sane around when he starts acting up.”

“Is he like a toddler or something? Does he have these sorts of fits often?” She laughed, joining in at poking Sherlock. 

“I told you their not –”

“Only on days ending in ‘y.’” John said overtop of Sherlock. 

“My poor friend,” Thor said, dropping a meaty hand on Sherlock’s shoulders, “To have such problems befall you on the my day of my namesake.” He shook his head and looked so sad at the prospect of someone else’s illness. 

“I’m not –” Sherlock tied again.

John laughed and knew that whatever crazy Sherlock caught him up in, Darcy was going to be a great ally to have around. At her saucy little wink over Sherlock and Thor’s antics, maybe ally wouldn’t be all they were to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a request leave it in the comments or ask me on Tumblr - [xaglow](http://xaglow.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
